Fuerza introduction
by obessioncycle
Summary: He almost touched its skin one last time, but he knew it would be cold... A Szayel Aporro Grantz fanfiction. Szayel attempts to create a more humanoid Fracción, a more beautiful creature; more powerful than any other.
1. Fuerza Introduction

He tapped the glass body of the syringe in his hand and stared at the pale, motionless body on the metal table before him. He breathed deeply, closely examining every inch with his eyes, observing every nick and sore from his endless work he had done on the lifeless shell. He almost touched its skin one last time, but he knew it would be cold. It was always cold. Dead. Hard.

He checked the clock hanging on the wall, and scribbled down the time, his hand nearly shaking with excitement. He calmed himself down reminding himself of the steady hand he would need to properly inject the subject. He swallowed as he wiped the cold flesh of the corpse with alcohol again. If this didn't work, he had no idea how he could get the fluid out. If he was successful, he would be able to claim he had made life in a humanoid image, an arrancar, fracción, as beautiful and functional as any Espada.

"Please work, my girl," Szayel sighed as he pushed the needle into her skin and emptied the syringe into her vein. He took a deep breath, opened her mouth and forced breath down her throat and quickly beat down onto her chest. A strange vibration echoed through her body cavity, the air he had breathed into her escaped from her weak chest.

Her chest thudded with a weak beat. She inhaled a shallow breath. Szayel grabbed her wrist—under his fingertips fluttered a young pulse.


	2. Fuerza 1

Ch 1

Her breathing strengthened as moments passed. Szayel nearly threw down his syringe and quickly scribbled into his notebook

_Three seconds, full breathing weak pulse._

He watched her intently. Szayel gripped her hand as she began to breathe strongly, her bruised chest heaving under the white cloth he had laid across her out of some sense of courtesy. She breathed hard as to clear her lungs. He saw her eyes flicker under her eyelids as she gained consciousness.

A swell of pride and concern filled him so completely at once, he couldn't quite focus. He held his hand beside her head as she twitched. Her eyes fluttered open, staring into his, clear and green. As the air touched her eyes, they changed color slightly, and yellowed. Her pupils constricted against the harsh light, she didn't seem as if she had been able to see him with her new eyes. He wanted to speak to her, communicate and determine her intelligence, but he had no idea what to say.

"Can you hear me?" he asked

Her eyes followed the sound of his voice and found his face.

"yes." Her voice was clear and warm, but hardened with anxiety and detachment.

"im going to take your pulse, now, record your vital signs for a moment. Do you know what that means?" he asked, his voice nearly trembling with excitement and joy.

"Yes," she responded quietly, her breath faltering.

"Calm down, breathe. I won't hurt you," he added anxiously. She wasn't strong enough to handle excitement yet, he could see. He took her wrist gently in his hand. Her pulse beat quietly under her skin, and while the speed was normal, it was still weak. He noted this in his notebook as he took a long, tube-like instrument from a nearby drawer. He held the small single earbud to one ear and laid the flat, drum like end onto her chest. The echoing of her breath rang in his ear.

"I need a better listen, this might be cold," he whispered to her as he pulled the thin white material off her chest. She lied still and motionless even as the cold metal of his modified stethoscope pressed against her bare skin. The whisper of her working heart and airways was louder, more powerful. He took the instrument off of her and pulled out the earpiece.

"I'm worried about your reflexes. Did you feel anything when I touched you?"

Her lips parted but hardly a sound came, "Yes."

He watched her for a moment, her breathing resumed normally.  
"My name is Szayel Aporro Grantz. We're in my home in Hueco Mundo, in a laboratory. I made you," he explained.

She breathed for a moment. "Do I have a name?"

"Not yet," he admitted. He did not want to have a name for her if she were to fail. It would only have made matters worse. "What should I call you?"

His mind rushed through names as he watched her. He had already made and created names for hundreds of creations, but none of them seemed to fit her. She was different than them in nearly all ways. Adriana, Alda, Cira, Coleta, Consula, Isi, Iratze, Nelia, Olivia, Azua, Belina, Emilia, Sierra; thousands of various names clouded his mind. All his fracción had Spanish names. It would be appropriate to name her with one also, but none of the names quite fit. He put it out of his mind as he continued to examine her.

She was nearly entirely naked, spare for the thin white gauzy material across her lap. Her body was perfectly formed and white as porcelain, but marked in large red and purple welts and bruises from the constant prodding and pricking of needles she had undergone before she awoke. Her bandages had been removed moments before and parts of her skin were white and moist from the contact of the bandage. Blood crusted along swollen wounds where she had been punctured ceaselessly. Healing cuts along her limbs where her muscles and ligaments had been re-connected and strengthened dripped old blood caught in scabs. Scar tissue rippled through her skin. Every crease of her skin was filled with some sort of blood or slimy excretion from reactions to chemicals used in her creation.

He gently took her hand. Her blood had begun to warm her skin, her muscles were less stiff. He massaged the muscles gently; they gave way tenderly under his fingers. "Do you think you can stand?" he asked.

She sighed and stared at him questioningly.

"let me help you. Let your body move as I direct it," he ordered smoothly as he pushed his arm under her and sat her upright. Her upper half alone was heavy and limp. "Hold yourself upright," he muttered, straining. He shimmied his shoulder under her arm and close against her trunk to support her. "Can you move your feet ?" he tapped her toes with his other hand, "these are your feet."

Her toes wiggled. "Good."

Szayel removed the white cloth that lied over her lap and tossed it onto a vacant edge of the metal gurney. "Ok, I need you to stand."

She weakly twitched her leg and moved it toward the edge of the table. "Good, come," he prompted. She moved slowly and awkwardly like a broken wind-up. Finally, she had both legs hanging over the table. As she put both feet on the ground, her weight was felt on both legs for the first time. Unable to handle the strain, her knees gave, one leg sprawling out straight outward banging her foot against the lock on the gurney wheel. The lock snapped open as her body crashed into the metal surface, bringing Szayel with her, and sending the table rolling from under them. A horrible metallic _clash_ rang through the sparse room as Szayel grabbed onto the rolling table with one hand and braced his new experiment close to his body. The table turned until the lock on the other wheel forced it to stop. He dragged her and himself upright, supporting himself on the metal edge.

"ok, just lean on the table, don't let your foot touch the wheel!" he ordered as he held her up with his shoulder. He quickly bent and grabbed her from under her knees and pulled her into his arms. She grabbed her arms around his throat perhaps a bit too tightly. He gently pulled her arms apart slightly with one hand and wrapped both arms around her to let her know she was secure. "Relax, I won't drop you," he muttered carrying her off, " I need to get you washed and clean. You look a mess. We can't have anyone seeing you like this," he smiled. She buried her head between her chest and his shoulder, shaking terribly as he carried her frail shell behind a door at the end of the lab.


	3. Fuerza 2

2

-Szayel groped along the wall urgently, feeling for the light switch as he held the girl with one arm and his raised knee. He finally felt the smooth resin plate and snapped it on filling the small tiled room with light. It was a cold washroom as industrial as the lab adjacent to it. He sat her down on the cold porcelain toilet and pulled open the chrome door above it to reveal a deep cupboard. He pulled out several large white towels and hung them over a metal rack behind the door and shut the door. He tried to move quickly seeing her cold pain; the last thing he needed was to have her die of hypothermia. He forcefully shoved aside the curtains over the shower and pulled out the knob, turning it over to its highest heat.

-The water banged against the wall and finally spat through the shower head. A gentle spray of cold water erupted against the tiled wall as szayel adjusted the height . as the water grew warmer he turned the knob back to the center, so it would not grow hot enough to burn her. While he thought of this he suddenly realized he would have a definite problem having her wash herself, as she could hardly sit upright.

-He pulled open his shirt from the seam in the middle and removed his boots and zanpakuto and laid them on the floor. He sighed in dismay at the thought of standing in soaking wet pants trying to keep his glasses from spotting, but pulled aside the curtain, stood up the girl, and helped her into the deep tub all the same.

-She flinched and slipped a bit as the jet of water beat onto her back. "is it too hot?" he asked, struggling to hold her upright. "No, it feels good," she said backing into the water and almost trying to nestle into it as if it were a blanket. "You'll be warm soon, it just takes a little time for the room to heat up, alright?" he said, "hold still. Hang onto me."

-He reached for a smooth white bar of soap sitting in a little nook in the wall. He rubbed it in his hands working up a lather. "Hang on," he ordered as he reached out of the shower and pulled a cloth off the rack. She held on tightly. "Good girl, up now." He rubbed the soap onto the cloth and worked it up into a white bubbly cream. "You can let loose," he muttered almost irritated. "you're warm," she sighed, eyes closed and calm. "Yes, I know, but you will be warm soon too. Now please let go," he sighed trying to wash her back despite the current of fresh water beating the washrag.

-"I need you to follow me, step forward," he stepped back and pulled her from the jet. It was exponentially easier to wash her now. He gently scrubbed at the tiny bead of dried blood the peppered her arms and back and eventually passing over all of her skin. He checked her over a second time, indifferently inspecting her limbs and trunk. Other than the bruises, not a speck could be seen on her skin, however, the water running around her feet and on szyael's hands was a watery brown-red from the washed and dried blood. He threw the cloth to the bottom of the tub and rinsed his hands behind her back. "Hang onto me again , alright?" he bent to reach for a bottle on the ledge of the tub. A horrible slipping and squeaking noise came from behind him and before he could turn he felt her slam into his back. He winced slightly in pain but flipped himself back around in time to catch her, falling face first toward the bottom of the tub. "ok, ok just sit!" he panicked sitting her down out of the current of the jet. He stood and turned the jet of water away from them. "Are you alright," the noise alone seemed to have irritated her; she was covering one ear with her hand and trembling, eyes forced shut. "it's ok, you won't fall anymore." He took the bottle he was reaching for and emptied some of the liquid inside onto his palms. "You're worse than a infant," he muttered, working the solution into her hair.

-A greasy and heavy feeling slipped around between his fingers and the soap near the top of her scalp. He worked the soap in more and eventually poured more from the bottle onto his hands and continued. Her hair grew with the foaming bubbles until he squeezed out the excess soap. Her hair was a light brown while it was wet and soapy. He ran his fingers up to her scalp and began to massage it lightly to rid it of any excess dirt or oils and lure blood to her skull.

-She blinked around innocently and began to look around the shower. She stared hard at Szayel. "can you see quite yet?"

-"I think so." She looked down at herself and then at Szayel who was kneeled, soaking wet with his hair and pants plastered close to his body. "You look different than me. "

-Szayel smiled. "Yes, you're a little hurt. The purple will go away. they're just bruises"

-"your legs are very long," she commented, wiggling her own.

-She stared around a few moments as he finished with her hair.

-"The steam is pretty. Smokey," she commented.

-Her actualization of steam surprised him. "What is steam? What phase of matter?" szayel asked, half-expectantly.

-"vapor," she replied quietly.

-"what defines a vapor? Makes it different than a solid?"

-"the speed of the molecules. The temperature rises, the molecules speed up, they separate and become a vapor," she replied casually.

-Szayel's hand stopped, stiff in her hair. He could hardly believe that she had just recited such information. He half- expected her to know almost nothing . Phases of matter were in no way complex but they were a glimmer of dear hope to szayel that she may possess endless knowledge. "very good," he responded after a while. "turn around with me, I need to rinse off your hair," he prodded , exchanging positions on the bottom of the tub with her. Her back was now to the water and he was farther from the jet. He stepped over her shoulder and adjusted the water to fall onto her head and back. Gently , he rinsed her hair , searching the dark-colored strands for a hint at what colors her hair might contain. Here and there a hue of light purple surfaced under the light, but for the most part it was brown. As he was creating her, her hair grew in with all sorts of color, in patches and not at all the same thickness or shade. As it grew out it had also grown quite dirty and chemical-soaked. In the absence of medicines and chemicals, he wasn't quite sure what color it would be.

-"Lean your head back, I need to get your hairline," he instructed.

-She obeyed and instantly started spitting up water and coughing.

-"Ah! You have to hold your breath!" he exclaimed, agitated.

-She coughed up water, rubbing her face. "what?"

-"look at me" he held her hand to his nose and held his breath. "see, no air in or out. " he took a deep breath and slowly breathed out.

-"you were breathing then," she commented.

-"yes, but only outward. If you breathe in, you will get water in your nose. Alright?"

-She nodded and leaned her head back into his hands again. She held her breath better but still seemed to have some trouble, and would panicingly rub her face and gasp suddenly.

-After much splashing, Szayel sat her back upright and removed his glasses. He could see just about as well either way with all the steam and water on the lenses. "you're a lot of work," he grumbled, sighing deeply.

-"im sorry," she apologized quietly.

-"it's not entirely your fault. I didn't plan as well as I should have," he snapped to himself.

-He reached to the far wall and pushed the knob back into the wall, stopping the water and stood, dripping loudly. He stepped out onto a towel he had lied down on the floor. He quickly grabbed the large towels through the clouds of steam in the room. He wrapped one around the girl's shoulders and pulled her to her feet. She seemed more steady on them now , but she still leaned heavily onto him. He gently bent her over and wrapped the second towel around her hair, and stood her upright again. She seemed slightly unbalanced by this and wobbled for a moment. After balancing her, Szayel reached back to the cabinet and grabbed another towel which he wrapped around his dripping waist and led her back out into the lab.


	4. Fuerza 3

3.

-The wet puddles left by their feet on the white floors of the lab reoccurred in Szayel's mind like an annoying itch with each step. He hurried her across the lab and to the main door as quickly as she could move. He leaned her against his own body as he opened the door and led her to a small bare antechamber containing nothing but one other door. The cold air of the chamber chilled even his warm skin ; he rushed them both through the door into the next room. Again, he fumbled for the light switch, and finally found it, illuminating a plush pink and white room full of armoires and dressers and even a vanity. The air was much warmer in this room, but whether it was because of its frequent use or heavy carpeting and drapes could not be determined.

-"This is my wardrobe," he explained, "I'm sure something in here will fit you."

-He removed her arm from his shoulder and propped her up against the wall gesturing for her to stay there and quickly threw open the doors to one of the armoires.

-She looked around in awe at the bright colors and the bright light. The world was new to her eyes, which had just begun to focus. The new shapes of the furniture curved like endless mountains to her. The soft pinks were bright and beautiful, like a vision seen in a dream. Her eyes found Szayel, pushing aside endless rows of white articles of clothing in one of the armoires. She stared happily at his pink hair and closed her eyes, remembering it fondly, enjoying the hopeful rush that the simple color gave her. It was the first color she ever saw other than the industrial white and silver of the lab and the washroom.

-"_Rosa_," she muttered to herself softly. She wasn't sure how or why she already had a name for the hue, but she did. As she looked around the room, she realized she already had a name for nearly everything she saw, but she couldn't remember how she knew them. Her knowledge was like a faded memory from years past, but the only memories she actually owned were of the wonderful man before her, holding her in his arms, caring for her, and watching her from behind his curtains of _Rosa_ colored hair.

-Szayel whipped his head around, hearing her speak. "What did you say?" he asked, curious that she could speak at all.

-"_Rosa," _she repeated.

-He was taken aback for a moment. Again, he was impressed by her knowledge; how could she already name colors? It was a simple thought, and not even formed into a sentence, but the idea alone was impressive as she had no past to base her knowledge on.

-"Yes, I have many things that are _rosa_," he replied as stoically as possible, giddy excitement whirling inside of him. He quickly turned back to the endless array of clothing: everything would be much too large on her. He didn't realize until he had her standing beside him how much smaller she was than him. Unable to find a better fit, he pulled one of his routine outfits from the wardrobe and handed it to her.

-"It's going to be big on you, but I will make you another one soon," he explained. He had never had to worry about clothing his fracciòn because he usually was able to make clothing a part of their body. He had never made one so humanoid, or so much like himself.

-"Do you need help putting it on?" he asked. He wasn't sure of what she was capable of anymore. She didn't have good control of her motor skills which was evident from her clumsiness in the shower, but she had incredible intelligence so detailed it seemed to come from memories that were not her own.

-She looked at the white garment, confused. "Yes," she admitted. She could figure out what she was supposed to do with it: it resembled the clothes Szayel was wearing on his legs, so she could assume she was supposed to put it on. Somehow, she also had recollection of how she was supposed to do this, but her body didn't want to connect to her mind, and she couldn't figure out how she was supposed to go about getting herself inside of the white tube of material.

-"Are you dry?" he asked, taking the towel wrapped around her shoulders, gently rubbing it over her skin. She was still wet: how was it she remembered trivial knowledge, but not simple actions? He couldn't help but admiring his work as he viewed it up-close. She wasn't perfectly human, anyone could see that when she was undressed like this. Szayel, however, was almost in awe at his own creation; she was exactly how he wanted her and was created to his image of beauty.

-Her skin body was pale and strong and absent of almost all hair, except for the cascade of wet dripping locks o her head. Whether she would ever have any or not was still a question to Szayel. He had always loathed his lack of ability to create hair for his fracciòn. He felt the strong muscles that lied just below her skin as the towel glided over her and knew that she would be able to use her body in no time at all. Even her chest felt powerful and smooth. The powerful muscle under her chest gave her shape had an incomplete look because it caused an absence of the fat needed to give her a feminine shape. What was more, Szaeyl omitted the reproductive qualities of her chest- she was not made for that- leaving her chest nothing more than two small, smooth white curves in her otherwise flat figure. Aside from her feminine waist and face, she was altogether very androgynous.

-He finished drying her and wrapped her hair in the towel. "Hold on to me," he instructed her again as he took the trousers of the garment and held them open, "step into these, one leg at a time. Make sure you don't put both legs in one side or you'll just fall over again." She wrapped both arm around his neck, terrified of falling over again. She hated the feeling: it felt as if the world was coming at her face and that her insides were floating somewhere outside her body, quickly followed by a very real and numbing pain. She slid one leg to left and one leg to the right of the seam she saw in the bottom of the pants. Szayel took a thin black strip of material from the vanity beside them and wrapped it around the extra material that fell around her waist and tied it tightly. "put your arms up," he instructed. She obeyed, and he quickly slipped the long tunic top over her. He had expected it to be more difficult, but she was so small it easily fell right onto her.

-The tunic seemed to fall forever in front of her face after he slipped it over her; she closed her eyes against the bright white blur. At last her head escaped through the narrow hole in the top and she opened them again. His eyes stared back, bright and framed by white glasses. They were knowing and slightly intimidating, but beautiful all the same. She stared back into them as if trying to learn something from them. _Ambarino_, she thought, like gold.

-"I need to alter this for you," he concluded, observing her as she stood in the puddle of white cloth." I doubt any of my shoes would fit you. Let me see what I have. Lean against the vanity."

-She obeyed. The vanity beside her was littered in tiny trinkets she hadn't noticed before. Strips of material, spare lenses, and tiny pink bottles sparkled back at her. Her eyes grew wide as she leaned over them, inspecting them happily. She followed the curve of the vanity and found a face staring back


	5. Fuerza 4

Ch 4

-"I feel empty inside," Akari complained softly, sounding somewhat confused.

-A feeling of dread filled Szayel; how could she already be angsty if she's only lived for a few moments?

"How do you know what it's like to feel empty?" he asked, irritated,"you've not experienced life yet."

-"I don't know," she muttered apologetically, "It's just that I feel hollow in here, and sick. " She put her hand to her stomach

-"Oh," Szayel felt somewhat guilty but more stupid for not putting "hunger" into his list schema of "empty feelings". He stood and looked her full in the face , prepared to notify her that he would go find her something to eat when he realized that hunger was not a typically experienced feeling for an arrancar. What have I created? He thought.

-"I will—go get you something to eat," he stammered. He decided to stick to his original plan only because he didn't know what else to say.

"Where?" she asked.

-He was taken aback. He certainly was not prepared for her questioning personality or eagerness for everything.

-"The kitchen," he responded almost irritably.

-"Can I come with you?" she asked

-"no," he said flatly. His mind however was anything but "flat"; Thoughts and worries were running rampant. He decided that he would have to keep a close eye on her as she seemed the type to accidently wander and get herself in trouble or be over-curious. How was he supposed to keep an eye on her if he went into the kitchen, he asked himself.

-"Yes, you can come with me, but not because you asked," he told her. He could _not _let her think she had any influence on him or she would be sure to try to take advantage of it, he thought.

-"Ok!" she beamed. Her happiness almost disgusted him. She seemed interested and happy about everything and anything.

- He ran his fingers through the scalp of his hair. The shock of the wet hairs on his skin reminded him that he was still wearing a drenched pair of pants. "Turn around or close your eyes or something alright? Don't look at me," he added walking back to his wardrobe. He quickly found a new outfit, dried himself with the towel he had thrown onto the floor and re-dressed. He threw the wet towel into one of several woven baskets along the wall; they each had their own purpose and this one was for towels only. He tossed the arm of a shirt that didn't make it entirely into its basket in and threw his wet pants into the basket next to it. He checked again that he didn't leave any corners hanging out. He hated when a corner or sleeve hung over the basket- it looked so messy.

- "Ok," Szayel said, "can you get—" before he finished his phrase, Akari had already fallen over.  
"No, no you cannot," Szayel answered himself. He pulled her back up with her arm slung over his shoulder. "This is going to be easier if you just don't try to walk yet," he told her as he swung his other arm under her knees and carried her to the door. She was quite light, but it was still awkward for him to turn the door knob and shut the door behind them.

-He took her to the center wall of the antechamber and pushed. What was constructed to look like a wall opened up into a large bare hallway. Akari's eyes grew wide and she goggled at everything with wide eyes. She held onto Szayel's shoulders tightly and used him to hold her steady as she looked behind them, above, in front of them, and the tiles beneath his feet.

-They passed through several halls, all of different colors and geometric design. Szayel hurried around each corner and past each door, almost frightened that someone would see Akari. She was not ready to be shown and he was still having his fun with her without veryone else knowing about her existence. He wanted to keep it that way. He slid through a bare white door at last into a vast and modern kitchen.

-The bright chrome cabinets and appliances were contrasted black cabinet doors, and black and white granite countertops. Everything was very sleek and streamlined. The place was obviously a very beautiful and modern place when clean, but as it was shared by all Espada, dishes of sorts lay out on the counters and various items that would not fit into a cabinet were either also on the countertop or in large bags against the walls. Szayel sat Akari onto one of the large permanent islands in the center of the room. "Do you know anything you want to eat?" he asked. He was quite unaware of her intelligence or how much she already knew of her world. She shook her head.

-"What's that?" she asked, pointing to a bag of fruit.

-"That—is Halibel's. No one can have that," he smiled, "but I like your taste. This is my cabinet. _Ocho." _ He indicated to the cabinet in front of them with a chrome 8 inlaid in the black wood. He opened it. A perfectly arranged array of all sorts of bags and boxes or plain colors sat in their strict order. "It's nothing really exciting. I don't even know what would work in your digestive system," he thought out loud, his eyes examining labels. He shut the cabinet. In the corner of his eye, he caught the figure of an arrancar standing at the far end of the room.


End file.
